Page 16 of Sweet Animosity

Fortunately, I knew just where to start.

CHAPTER 8

VIVIAN

Ithrew open another drawer and grabbed the contents as my friend’s voicemail beeped.

“Michelle, this is Vivian. If you get this, please call me back. It’s urgent. I need a place to stay tonight.”

I tossed the handful of clothes into the open suitcase on my bed. It was already more than half full and I hadn’t even added any of my designer handbags yet.

I scrolled through my contacts and hit another button. Tilting my head to hold the phone against my shoulder while I tossed several pairs of boots onto the pile of clothes, I then lowered to my knees and dragged a second suitcase out from under the bed.

Just because I was going into hiding didn’t mean I couldn’t look good while doing it.

As the phone continued to ring, I ran into the bathroom. Holding my silver glitter travel makeup bag open at the edge of the counter, I swept my arm along the granite, pushing all the eyeliners, blushes, foundation, mascara, lipsticks, and brushes into the bag.

“Hello…”

“Stacey! Thank God you picked up.”

“You’ve reached Stacey. Obviously, I didn’t hear my cell ring, but you can leave a message or better yet text me like a normal person.”

Crap.

It was Saturday night. They were probably in some noisy bar or club. Unlike me, all my friends had lives, dates, boyfriends.

Pulling the towel off my wet hair, I marched out of the bedroom. In the kitchen, I rummaged through the refrigerator, pushing aside several half-empty containers with a chicken gyro, some falafel and a few kabobs, as well as one untouched cheeseburger, and I found the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.

Throwing up a prayer for twist tops, since I did not have the mental energy right now to go searching for my wine opener, I snatched a clean wineglass from the counter dish rack and poured a large glass.

As I drank, I stared at the flickering candle flame on my coffee table. The vanilla sugar cookie scent usually calmed me. Not tonight.

Maybe I was overreacting?

Even though the Russian had seen my driver’s license, it didn’t mean he knew where I lived.

Score one for procrastination.

I’d never updated my license after moving over three years ago.

And a silver lining. The principal people on Abakar’s staff who knew I worked for him were now dead.

Maybe I didn’t need to shove all my belongings into a suitcase and disappear in the middle of the night like a freaking thief.

As I paced, I crossed the threshold into the second bedroom that I used as my workshop.

I stared at the chaos of tools, supplies, and chemicals.

I couldn’t possibly pack all this up and take it to a friend’s apartment.

And I couldn’t leave it behind.

I closed the bedroom door and hugged my wineglass to my chest.

Still, it would be smart to leave town—at least for a few days.

Heading back into my main bedroom, I picked up my phone and scrolled the contact list again.

---